


Healing Touch

by Mugglemama



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-14
Updated: 2009-08-14
Packaged: 2018-10-27 17:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10813320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mugglemama/pseuds/Mugglemama
Summary: Ron is injured on an Auror mission and Hermione comes from Hogwarts to tend to his wounds.





	Healing Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

“Ron?”

Hermione pushed the door open and was immediately assaulted by the odor.  She noted that all hospitals - whether Muggle or Magical - have the same antiseptic smell.

“Ron?” she tried again, her voice a little louder.  She took in his appearance as she stepped further into the darkened room.  His face and body, usually so full of life and strength, looked weak and pale as he lay in the hospital bed.  She let out and involuntary sob, “Oh, Ron!”

“Er-my-nee? S’tat you?” responded Ron in a groggy voice, “You okay, Luv?”

“Am I okay?” she asked incredulously.  “I’m not the one who was pushed out a three story window by some idiot dark wizard bent on revenge.”

“Damn that Harry Potter - I told him not to...”

“Harry didn’t, it was your mother.  And trust me Harry will be hearing from me about that.”

“Mum?  Why would she do that?”

“Maybe because she thought I should know that the man I love almost died!”  Hermione shouted.

“Hermione, it wasn’t that bad - someone cast a cushioning charm so I’m not hurt too bad.  The healers have fixed me up just fine.  Just some rest and a few potions,” he indicated the bottles at the bedside cabinet, “and I’ll be good as new.  Now,” he continued, sitting up further in his bed, “did you come all this way just to yell at me, or are you going to come over here and give me a proper greeting?”

Hermione suddenly realized she was standing half way across the room from Ron.  She closed the gap between them in an instant.  Melting into his arms, she allowed herself to break down.  Ron held her firmly to his chest, stroking her hair and whispering gentle reassurances until she was able to calm down.

“Feel better, Luv?” he asked once her sobs had ceased.

Wiping her eyes, she nodded and gave him a small smile as she settled in beside him on his narrow hospital bed.

“When do you have to go back?”

“Not until curfew Sunday.”

“Wicked.  So, tell me, how did you persuade McGonagall to let you come see me?””

“Um, well ... the thing is...”  Hermione trailed off evasively.   “Oh, are these your potions?”  She quickly left the bed and began examining the bottles on his bedside cabinet. 

“Hermione?  McGonagall does know you're here, right?” Ron asked cautiously.

“Mm-hmm,” she responded nonchalantly.  Picking up a bottle, Hermione opened it and sniffed, trying to identify its ingredients and purpose.  “This one’s for pain, yes?”

“Yeah.”  Ron was growing annoyed at Hermione’s avoidance.  “Hermione, I want to know what you told McGonagall.”

Reviewing a second bottle, she made a face of revulsion at the smell, “Eww ... sleeping draught,” she observed.

“Hermione...” Ron said warningly.

Picking up another bottle, she quickly became puzzled by the contents.  “Hmm, no odor, colourless, almost oily in appearance ... I can’t place it.  What’s this one for?”

“Dammit Hermione,” he said through gritted teeth.  “It’s some sort of massage oil.  The medi-witch rubs in it to keep the muscles in my legs from tightening while the stuff in the blue bottle does the healing.  Now, are you going to tell me what happened with McGonagall, or am I going to have to...”

“Oh, should I be jealous?”  Hermione interjected, pouring a small amount of the oil on her fingertips and rubbing them to test the consistency and properties.

Startled by her question, Ron could only sputter, “Wh-what?”

“Should I be jealous?” Hermione repeated, with an eyebrow arched sarcastically, “You getting regular massages from pretty young medi-witches and all.”

Ron couldn’t help but laugh at this idea.  “Trust me love - no need for jealously.  Edina's not really my type.”

“Not blonde and busty, then?”

Ron shook his head emphatically, “Nor is she _my_ type - beautiful, brilliant, and bushy haired.”  Ron reached for her hand and brought it to his mouth for a gentle kiss.  “Eddie’s more like the love-child of Filch and Madam Pomfrey.”

“Ron, you're awful,” she laughed in spite of her admonishment.  Hermione took the opportunity to admire Ron.  She missed him terribly while she was away at school.  It had been so long since she had alone with him, so long since she had touched him. 

She leaned forward to place a tender yet passionate kiss on his full lips.  Pulling back slightly she whispered against his lips, “I love you.”

He grasped her face in his large hands and responded, “I love _you_ ... so much,” before taking her bottom lip into his mouth and nibbling lightly, running his tongue along the inside of her lip in anticipation of deepening their kiss.

Once their lips parted, Hermione stood straight and, still holding the bottle of massage oil, she lifted the sheet that covered his lean hard body and asked, “May I?”

“Um, uh ... sure, I guess so.”

She pulled the thin sheet to the bottom of the bed and lifted his hospital gown to his waist to expose his legs fully to her.  She giggled at the sight of his Chudley Cannons boxers.

“Aren’t you a little old for pants with quaffles and snitches floating about?”

“Aren’t you a little young for Granny pants?”  He gave a playful smack to her bum.

“Why Ronald Weasley, I thought you liked my ‘sensible knickers’?”  She asked with a grin.

“It’s what’s _in_ your knickers I like the most.”  Hermione snorted slightly at his response.

She poured some of the liquid into her palm and spread it between her hands. “Oh, it gets warm,” she observed.

“Yeah, it does,” Ron responded thickly, his gaze transfixed on Hermione’s hands as she continued to slowly work the oil between her palms.

She placed her small warm hands on the calf of his right leg and began working the oil into his flesh, “How’s that?”

Ron closed his eyes and groaned in relief, “Damn, that’s good Hermione.  I was getting really stiff.”

Ron let her work in quiet for a few moments, enjoying the feeling of her hands against his skin.  He finally broke the silence, “So Hermione, what did you tell McGonagall?”

“I ... uh ... I may have indicated that we were, uh ... closer ... than she realized.”  Hermione’s resolve to remain silent on the topic lay crumbled at her feet.

“We really couldn’t get _too_ much closer,” he said, waggling his eyebrows comically.

“I may have told her ... that we’re ... engaged.”  Hermione screwed her eyes shut to avoid seeing his reaction.

“Oh?”

“Yes, I knew she’d never let me leave school otherwise, so I told her you had proposed before school started and that I’d said yes, of course...”

“Of course,” he noted quietly.

“And that we hadn’t told our parents yet,” Hermione continued rambling, “and I didn’t wear my ring because I didn’t want word to get back to our families, or our friends, or for the other students to find me unapproachable since as Head Girl I need to–”

“Hermione, it’s okay,” Ron cut her off before she lost consciousness from lack of oxygen.  “I’m glad whatever you told her convinced her to let you visit me.”

Hermione let out a sigh of relief and continued to work the muscles of his leg, gradually getting higher and higher.  Once she reached his thigh, Ron made noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl. 

“I’ve always loved your legs,” she said absently, as she slowly reached the juncture of his upper thigh and groin, fingers trailing inside his pants. 

“Really?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“Mm-hmm.  I always loved watching you on your broom, mesmerized by the way your thighs would clench, directing your flight.  They always looked powerful.”  She admitted with a small blush, “I was so jealous of that broom.”

While they were talking, Ron’s hand was trailing up under her skirt, running seductively over the back of her leg and stopping to knead her bottom.  Hermione let out an appreciative moan at his ministrations.

Hermione added more oil to her hands and, rather than moving to the other side of his narrow bed to work on his left leg, she reached across his body.  She arched her back and pressed her arse more firmly into his hand.  Ron took the invitation and ran his hand between her legs from behind, gently teasing her center over her knickers.

Rubbing the inside of his left thigh firmly Hermione noted, “I don’t think this massage is working.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it seems you’re still quite ... stiff.”  Hermione then ran the heel of her right palm firmly over the obvious erection throbbing in Ron’s boxers.

“Hermione,” Ron moaned in response to her touch.

“I hope this doesn’t happen when Edina massages you,” Hermione teased.  The fingers of her left hand were still on his thigh, her thumb pressing incessantly into his groin, just barely grazing his testicles, while her right hand continued its assault on his penis through his boxers.

“God no, only for you Luv.  Only for you.”  Ron’s hand pushed her knickers aside and he began his own assault.  No longer teasing, he reached for her engorged clit and, using his thumb and forefinger, gave it a twist.

Hermione let up a small whimper at this manoeuvre - one that always got to her.  Unable to restrain herself any longer, Hermione reached for the waistband of his pants and released his erection.

“Yes, ... Please Hermione, touch me.”  Ron begged, his hand continuing to pleasure Hermione between her legs, his actions growing more frenzied as his own excitement escalated.

Hermione interlaced the fingers of both hands, relaxing her thumbs in order to make a hole. She lowered her clasped hands around Ron’s penis, creating a snug fit.  She began to move her hands up and down his shaft twisting slowly - one direction on the upward stroke, the other on the downward - the massage oil making the journey a smooth one. 

“Does that feel good Ron?  Is this what you wanted?” she asked, her slow and steady pace driving Ron mad.

“Fuck, yeah,” he groaned in response, “so good ... C’mere.”

The hand that wasn’t buried in Hermione’s knickers reached up behind her neck and pulled her roughly into a bruising kiss.  Hermione was forced to move one hand off Ron to brace herself against the bed.

Their mouths met in plundering kisses, each nibbling, licking and sucking with abandon – each trying to satisfy their mutual desire to consume the other.  Ron’s hand worked feverishly at Hermione’s core.  The angle was awkward and his hand was beginning to cramp, but he didn’t care.  He knew he didn’t have enough strength back yet to take her the way he wanted but he had to have her anyway he could.

The rhythm of Hermione’s strokes became erratic as she came closer to her own climax.  When she made the combination whimper/gasp that always preceded her release Ron escalated his frenetic pace and began the verbal barrage he knew would send her over the edge, “That’s right, cum for me Hermione.  Soak my hand so I can lick it clean.  Fuck - you feel so good, can’t wait to taste you.”  (It had been a glorious day for Ron Weasley when he discovered that Hermione had a hard kink for dirty talk.)

As expected, Hermione promptly followed Ron’s command and clenched repeatedly around his hand, moaning softly into his mouth as she tried to stifle her urge to scream.

As she climaxed, she increased the pressure and speed of her strokes along Ron’s still throbbing erection, bring him closer to his own completion.  True to his word, Ron drew his hand to his mouth, relishing the taste of Hermione on his skin. 

Once she’d come down from her high, she leaned forward and whispered hotly into his ear, “Cum for _me_ , my love.” 

Shivers ran down Hermione’s spine as she took in the glorious sight of Ron’s head thrown back in ecstasy, his hard body arching upward as he groaned her name and spilled himself all over her hand and his stomach.

Once both had sufficiently recovered, Hermione took Ron’s wand from the bedside table and cast the appropriate cleansing spells.  Just as Ron was pulling his sheet back over his body, the door to his hospital room burst open.  Hermione jumped back several steps at the sight of the gruff medi-witch at the door.

“Time for your potions, Mr. Weasley.”

“Of course Eddie,” Ron said with a cheeky grin.  Hermione barely suppressed a giggle at the display of his youthful charm.

“It’s Edina,” she abruptly corrected him while preparing the appropriate doses of his medicines.  Quickly administering his medications, she then grabbed for his sheet.  “Time for your massage,” she announced.

Ron held fast to the edge of his bed covering.  “No need tonight Eddie, my fiancée here,” he nodded toward Hermione, “already took care of it - did a right thorough job of it too.” 

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron at the last part of his statement.

“I didn’t realize you were engaged Mr. Weasley,” she said, turning toward Hermione and examining her from head to toe.

“Neither did I,” Ron mouthed with a smile, causing Hermione’s glare to narrow even further.

Edina turned back to Ron, “Visiting hours are almost over and given the amount of sleeping draught you just had, you won’t be much company.  The young lady should be on her way ...”

“Now Eddie, be a dear and let Hermione stay.  She’s come all the way from Hogwarts to care for her injured fiancé.  We won’t cause any problems, promise.”  Ron gave her his most pleading look.

“Please?”  Hermione piped in, hoping politeness would help sway the matron.

“Fine,” she agreed with a huff.  “You’re being released first thing anyway - but no funny business.”

“No worries,” Ron said with a wide yawn, “too knackered for any naughtiness.”  Ron gave the medi-witch a bright smile, “Thanks Edina, you’re the best.”

“Mm-hmm,” she replied heading out the door, “G’night Mr. Weasley, Miss.”

Ron pulled back the covers and motioned for Hermione to join him.  She kicked off her shoes and crawled in beside him, reveling the in the chance to finally sleep in his arms again.  They were quiet for some time, only Ron’s loud yawns occasionally breaking the silence.

Ron picked up the hand Hermione had resting on his chest and brought it to his mouth for a tender kiss.  “Thank you,” he said quietly, “for being here – it means a lot to me.”

“Of course.  There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”  She gave him a quick kiss to his cheek.  “Now get some sleep.  If Eddie finds out I kept you up I’m sure there’d be hell to pay.”

Ron chuckled and fell silent once again, sleep rapidly approaching.

“Hermione?”

“Yes, Ron?

“I’m sorry you had to lie to McGonagall.”

“It’s not the first time.  Don’t think on it Luv.”

“Still ... I hate to make a liar out of you.”  He let out a huge yawn.

“You didn’t...”

He placed her hand over his chest and struggled to find the right words.  “I guess ... I want ... I mean, I need...”

“Ron?”  Hermione pushed up on her elbow to look Ron in the eyes, “What are you trying to say?”

He met her eyes with a steady gaze.  “I love you Hermione and I want to be with you always.  Marry me?”

Hermione blinked back tears and without any hesitation firmly stated, “Yes, of course.”

Ron pulled her to him for what would have been the most passionate kiss they had shared to date, but for the copious amounts of sleeping draught Ron had consumed.  After yawning widely against her mouth he muttered an embarrassed apology.

“No worries.  Now sleep.”

Ron was just drifting off when a thought occurred to him.  “Hermione?”

“What now Ron?”

“You don’t have to wear the ring yet, if you don’t want to.”

“What ring?”

“The one I bought for you - it’s in my room back home.  I was going to give it to you next Hogsmeade visit.  But if you’d rather wait...”

“No, I don’t want to wait.”

“Excellent. G’night Luv.”  The sounds of Ron’s loud snores soon filled the air.

“Sleep well my love,” Hermione whispered as she snuggled closer, “you're going to need your rest for the celebrating I plan to do tomorrow.”


End file.
